


Divided We Fall

by Alania



Series: Ashes, Ashes [1]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Last Jedi - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Force Bond (Star Wars), More Force Bond fic? In my Star Wars?, Star Wars: The Last Jedi, it's more likely than you think., tlj - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 21:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13085874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alania/pseuds/Alania
Summary: I think most of us came out of that movie with that itch to just write more Force Bond moments. So here's some more. I am of the firm opinion that you can not have enough of this good, good shit. Thank you TLJ.





	Divided We Fall

“I miss you.”

It’s as simple as that. The swell that warns her it’s coming is almost nonexistent this time, which she realizes could be dangerous when she thinks too hard on how easily he could just listen in on a conversation that he has no right to hear. Right now, there’s nothing of importance happening around her - but that’s not to say there won’t be. Not always.

She thinks of these things because she _can’t_ let herself focus on what he’s saying, on the way he’s looking at her. She can’t take his hand and let him guide her back down into that place within that only exists to give them a modicum of peace in a galaxy of disturbance. She can’t let him distract her.

Not again.

Moments like these came and went, just like the days that passed unnoticed. He was there, sometimes. Most of the time, he was not. And there were too many times when he found her at just the right moment, waking up from a dream, when it was easy to forget that he wanted to _rule_ and she’d wanted to _save_. In those moments, trapped between sleep and reality, it was just easy enough to forget. He was Ben. She was Rey. And no one would ever understand their particular flavor of loneliness like the other did. It was easy, and good, and _right_.

But she wasn’t asleep, now. She was trapped under the steel panels that lined the surface of his father’s ship, and he could barely see the width of her sticking out from it when the Force sutured them both together once more.

He kneels down, bending to get a better view, and there’s nowhere for Rey to run. She can’t even force herself deeper into the ship because it’s sparking at her feet and she just knows she’ll get electrocuted if she pushes it.

So she glares up at the eyes above her, the venom of her anger blotting out the need.

“I find that hard to believe.” She spits out with a healthy dose of sarcasm, twisting to get back to work. She waits for that tension to break, the release of that coil that signifies the Force bond, but it never comes. He just watches her work on the Falcon, and never quite moves from his place on his knees above her. He doesn’t even argue her point. He just stares at her, drinking her in.

This is what he wants, she reminds herself. He’s content with this bond, now. Just a look, a touch, a reminder that she still exists in a galaxy that doesn’t deserve her. One that would all be his, soon enough.

He’s determined to remake it until it deserves her. Even if that means it must all come undone.

“Do you?” His heavy voice finally answers. It’s clear he doesn’t believe her. He’s sure he’s proven his desire by now.

A wrench falls farther into the Falcon than Rey can get to. She decides to let it rot, groaning in frustration. It’s out of reach.

“It’s quiet.” He observes. His voice is always so soft when he’s thinking, when he’s trying to figure something out. “Are you alone?”

This time, she knows she should ignore him. She climbs out from under the steel grates and hops back to the surface, bending fully to grab at the panel and start dragging it back into place with great effort. It’s noisy, it’s distracting. It’s perfect.

And of course, it doesn’t last.

“Where _are_ they, Rey?”

He hasn’t said her name in days. It sends a fissure of unwanted pleasure down her spine.

She doesn’t answer.

“Where are _you_.” He changes his question, and it’s clear by the inflection that this is the only question that matters. If his goal was to find and wipe out the remaining Resistance, as he so adamantly kept declaring, then he was utter shit at it. She wanted to tell him so - wanted to tell him to find a new job, get a new hobby. She wanted it to be a barb, an insult.

Now she knows she wants it too badly to be used as an insult. It would be nothing more than one more pleading request, falling flat in the face of his ambition. His _certainty_.

He’s moved closer. She doesn’t know why she didn’t realize he’d been moving until he was looming over her, his body fully blocking the walkway. She glares at the expanse of it with great offense, because she knows what it looks like, underneath all those layers. And she _really wishes she didn’t_.

“You’re not getting anything out of me.” She points out, trying to be helpful despite how angry she sounds. “I’m not half-asleep. You might as well get out of my way because this isn’t going to-”

He brushes two fingers against the struggling tendrils of hair that have escaped her single bun, and her words die in her throat. It doesn’t matter. He knows what she was going to say, regardless.

And he knows she’s wrong.

“You _are_ alone.” He says it like it’s a victory, like he’s finally gotten exactly what he’s wanted from the beginning. Just her. No Resistance, no galaxy, no compromise, no surrender. _Just her._

She walks straight _through_ him, and his form disappears.

* * *

* * *

“I miss you.”

He hasn’t returned since the day she’d forced him away by walking through his body, and it’s taken its toll. The exhaustion caught up with her quickly, and Chewie has her sequestered in the tiny sleeping quarters in the hopes that she’ll sleep. She can’t tell if she’s actually fallen asleep or not, when she whispers those words in an exhale that sounds too close to relief. She only knows that this is her most dangerous moment.

So of course, it’s this moment that he returns.

“I told you you’d miss me.” The voice coos out, dripping with a smug amusement that makes her want to rail against the exhaustion keeping her still. His voice is close enough to feel against her skin, and when she slits her eyes open she finds sick humor in the sight of him laying down somewhere that doesn’t quite translate to her surroundings. His body looks like it’s floating, big and flat and stupid, right beside the lip of her bed.

Her eyes close again. She’s in no state to fight this.

“You never said that.”

But she still tries.

She can feel the vibration of his chuckle; it moves the mattress of her bed, somehow. Then he’s leaning in, a wall of warmth just soft enough to bury into, and she finds herself giving in again. This is where she knows she’s safe. This is where she’s never alone.

Locked willingly in the arms of her monster.

“Maybe I just thought it.” He relents, refusing to fight with her when she’s finally letting him hold her again. “It’s still true.”

Her cheeks brush against the firmness of the flat planes of his chest, and she swears she can feel him vibrating when she does it. He’s more animal than human, at times. If only she could convince herself of that fact.

“Don’t get used to this.” She warns him. She’s said it, every time. And not once has he ever tried to argue against it.

But he is used to it, by now. He can’t fall asleep unless he’s got her back in his arms.

And apparently, neither can she.

“Never.” He promises, soothing her with that one single word. His lips kiss the top of her head, and he can feel her entire body relax with the knowledge that no matter how many times she lets him in, he is never allowed the expectation of it. It’s what she needs, in order to survive.

And she, no matter where she is, is all he needs to survive. So he gives this to her. A promise, one he knows deep down he’s doomed to break. He promises never to get used to the feel of her in his arms.

It’s too late.

She’s falling asleep beside him, and he can see parts of her fading away from view. He closes his eyes, refusing to watch the bond wither. When they wake up, they’ll have enough time to be alone. For now, he just wants to forget that she isn’t really here.

He misses her. He’s never really had her, but he thinks he’ll know what it is to miss her for the rest of his life. But missing her, he reasons with himself, is still better than never knowing her at all.

**Author's Note:**

> I think most of us came out of that movie with that itch to just write more Force Bond moments. So here's some more. I am of the firm opinion that you can not have enough of this good, good shit. Thank you TLJ.


End file.
